hate
November 22, 2011 § 1 Comment
It is a little word that settles between actions, intentions, innuendo, and speech. Hateful words seep into the cracks of self-doubt, insecurity, unhappiness and push forcefully against the strength of self-esteem. My husband and I build invisible walls of self-respect around our children and then watch mindfully for signs of stress, tiny cracks in the mortar.
Yesterday a group of children used hateful words, pelting them against my son’s esteem like chunks of rock against brick leaving scars against his spirit. He knew the words were false, but the harm could not be undone. My husband and I set aside our sadness and anger, meeting our son’s confusion and hurt with honesty and truth. The words were unacceptable, inappropriate, ugly, and hurtful. We named the pain and then nurtured the wound, gathering our son close and listening while he processed the harm in a place of strength. He measured his worth and named the unkindness, marking the moment as an ugliness centered in others; his self-esteem greater than the weight of another’s words.
I will not dwell on my grief, but I will acknowledge the sadness I could not shake. It followed me intimately shadowing my movements and filling up my light with darkness. I let it sit inside my voice when I called the school and spoke to teachers; sharing the burden of responsibility, gathering witnesses to that unseen, holding each of us within my son’s days accountable for this invisible scar to his spirit.
accountability and humility
October 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
Recently I wrote about my son’s experience with a peer. In said instance my son was treated poorly by the peer at school, we addressed the incident with the school directly, and the school was both supportive and efficient in their efforts to control the situation. I was impressed, but quietly ill at ease. A part of me could not let go, feelings of discontent lingered. I questioned how the other child’s behavior was addressed and challenged his telling of the events with sarcastic disbelief in unspoken sentiments. To my son, I spoke only words of reassurance. I weighed my thoughts falsely projecting fairness, keeping my own negative emotions tucked away. The contradictory undercurrent left me feeling unkind and judgmental.
I forced myself to commit to repeating a mantra of positive posturing until the negative chorus was a quiet murmur. Over and over I said to myself: the other child made a mistake, mistakes are part of childhood, my son will endure this and learn from this moment. Be strong, but be forgiving. I was almost serene when my son came home and created a new ripple on calm waters.
My son made his own mistake. He did not harm another child, but he took something from a classroom. As the teacher’s telling unfolded, I felt my son’s mistake and stepped aside to make room for him to exercise accountability while I absorbed a moment of humility. My son moved beyond words and embraced accountability with action, owning his error and demonstrating remorse. A new thread of concern wrapped itself around my thoughts. Would others struggle to move past his error as I had struggled to let go of another child’s error?
I quickly realized these are moments in my son’s experiences outside of my control. Opportunities for him to grow, find his way, build character, and create new choices. As I was learning lessons in humility, accepting my son as imperfect and fallible; he was learning accountability in a safe and nurturing setting to be recalled at later moments in his life. I can no more undo his error than I can forge others’ opinions. The shoe on the other foot, we walked forward aware of the choices behind us and mindfully stepping into the future.
separately together
October 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
On a day unmarked on a calendar, sometime during my second pregnancy, my husband and I pledged to each spend time separately with our children. We wanted to carve out opportunities in a future yet unknown to gift each child individual time and attention. It is a promise we have kept and cherished.
This weekend my husband and daughter set off on a fall camping trip. The house is quiet without their laughter; mischievous and fun-loving they bring spontaneity and adventure to my days. Spending the weekend with my son, the quiet was reminiscent of days long past.
My earliest days of motherhood were spent neglecting countless household responsibilities, while marveling at the wonder of my tiny companion. I would read aloud from books beyond my son’s years or gather him near for a nap. This weekend, I am grateful that my son still finds his way to my side. Laughing at a movie, indulging in a ridiculous menu of favorite foods, and chatting about nothing in particular we have set aside our responsibilities for each other’s company.
Hours from now we will all be together again, but this morning I am reflecting on the promise my husband and I have kept. It is a joy to share our children’s company. It is an even greater blessing that they seek ours.
advocating strength
October 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
My son, head bowed, told me he was bullied… again. I ran through my initial emergency parenting protocol asking: Are you okay? Did you tell an adult? What happened? My heart in my throat I went through the motions of my end of school day routine while my son’s words replayed in my mind.
There is a small window of time between greeting my son at the end of his school day and collecting my daughter from hers. As I walked toward my daughter’s school my mind was riddled with questions. What now? Do I need more details? Who do I call? Do I wait for Monday?
The voice that makes me uncomfortable and holds me accountable was loud, casting away doubt and hesitation. I gathered my daughter from school, settled her at home with my husband, and then drove my son back to school.
Today is Friday and I had little hope that the school staff would greet me an hour after school had dismissed for the weekend, but they did. More importantly, they listened. I stood present as a witness for my son. I try to be my children’s advocate, but today I was humbled by my son’s fortitude.
Leaving the school my son tossed an arm around me and the same voice that screams when something is wrong, whispered that we will be alright. I write this to mark our family’s journey and to acknowledge my son’s strength.
good enough
October 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
The other day, as I faced my fear of confrontation, I watched another mother face fears of judgment. Her child had done something unkind, it was a singular mistake I felt needed to be addressed. The other mother apologized then added, he’s a good kid.
I would expect most of us have wanted to explain away poor behavior, defend our child, extol their virtues. Something deeper resonated within me; a fear of not being good enough.
I wish we could dismantle labels. The weight of carrying them everywhere is exhausting. Good wife, good mother, good housekeeper, good cook. Good grief! I wonder if the burden of similar labels suffocates our children from taking chances and risking failure to experience joy. What lessons do our children escape when they lose the opportunity to learn from mistakes? At what price must our children be good?
None of this is an excuse for unkind behavior. Just a series of thoughts that have accompanied me through the day. My heart rests on this thought,I wonder if sometimes it is enough to embrace the day and risk imperfection for the richness of experience. What is the defining difference between good and good enough?
walking the talk
October 13, 2011 § 2 Comments
I tell my children to stand up for themselves, but stood quietly in the background when uncomfortable with the idea of confrontation. Trusted friends nudged me out of my comfort zone. Sometimes the measure of a true friend is their willingness to tell you what you need to hear rather than what gives you comfort.
Recently both of my children have experienced a moment of unkindness with a peer that was presumably a friend. In each instance I told my children they deserved to be treated with respect, but did not model for them how we ask for respect with words and actions. I was all talk. Confiding in a friend, I was challenged to speak up and walk the talk.
I have since approached each parent of said children with wobbling knees and a pounding heart. Despite rehearsing in my mind what I would say, in each instance the script was forgotten in the moment. I held tightly to one message: this behavior is not acceptable.
It was uncomfortable; impossible as it was necessary. I was torn between my own hurt feelings and the other parents’ feelings. I imagined how I might feel if the roles were reversed. Mistakes are a part of growing up. Still, how do we help our children if their mistakes are sheltered and lessons lost? I hope my efforts help both my children and their peers learn and grow.
My children are unaware of my conversations, but I stand a little taller knowing I did more than talk the talk, I walked the talk.
it takes a village
October 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
My son is having peer problems at school. It began with a group taunting him with an inappropriate rhyme. Then, someone was unkind during gym class. Most recently a peer was disrespectful while waiting for the school bus. When my son came home in gym clothes because his school clothes disappeared from his locker my strength wavered. I reached out to a friend and to my son’s school for support, reassurance, and guidance. It takes a village to raise a child.
We build confidence and self-esteem at home. Then, in moments of difficulty we nurture our strength with numbers. When peers, parents, and teachers stand behind a child the weight of a challenge becomes bearable. The message of compassion and value dispels toxic notions of unworthiness.
It is important to note I do not allow my son to play victim. I try to give him a new script and recast supporting roles as needed. Each unfortunate experience begins with, you do not deserve to be treated that way. Then I try to open up a dialogue that allows my son to look at the problem, generate possible solutions, and reinforce self-worth. We have a similar conversation when he is unkind.
My conversations with teachers are centered in creating awareness and a sense of safety in the space of a school day. I try to fight against labeling children bad. Rather I look towards the problem causing children to act badly, trying to determine how best to help my son navigate his day with both compassion and self-respect.
I turn to my friends for wisdom. As a mother I am continually finding my way and looking to other strong women for guidance. Some days, they are my sounding board, other times they are fantastic listeners, but more often they are a fresh perspective that lends balance to a moment mired in my own concerns.
Throughout our misadventures in 6th grade, I have had the strength of a village. May every child know a community of compassion and concern that celebrates and reinforces a strength of character empowering a future of possibility.
marginally successful
October 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
My children reside in the academic margins of test scores, their success defined just outside the traditional framework. Both of my children have been gifted challenges that require a unique approach to traditional classroom expectations.
This year has been a transition year as my son moved from elementary to middle school. Early on there were signs he was struggling with otherwise simple tasks. Specifically, note taking and classroom activities. Up until last year there was an aide in his classrooms available to support my son when his attention wandered. This year, he is independently accountable for the little things that collectively make a big difference.
In the company of my son’s middle school teachers, a special education coordinator asked: What are your goals for your son? My husband and I had come to the meeting with a unique goal in mind. To set aside grades and test scores and chart our son’s ability to self-monitor as he learns to rely on himself for redirection. It was a goal that may have made other teachers uncomfortable, but his teachers respected this honest request. In a system where students and teachers are rated by scores, lesson plans structured to prepare students for tests and test scores used to measure success, our son’s teachers set aside those expectations and honored our wish.
Simultaneously, my daughter is struggling in elementary school. Reading and math skills loom in front of her like giant trees blocking the road to success. Slowly, we are all pushing against the weight of the block, moving forward together. Her teacher sees the seeds of greatness hidden behind test scores and nurtures my daughter’s strengths while challenging her to grow.
The unique needs that have created poor test scores have gifted my children space in the margins to blossom. Rather than focus on what they know, we are guiding them through the experiences of their mistakes. Perceived failure is often just a lesson in strength; success a personal achievement.
comfortably unsettled
September 20, 2011 § Leave a comment
Sometimes a little discomfort creates moments of greatness. Sitting among parents and educators gathered together to listen to a speaker on the subject of resilience, I quietly encountered emotions unexpressed that had lain dormant without a voice and hidden behind good intentions. Fear, doubt, uncertainty, hope. Am I parenting properly? In teaching resilience, mistakes are mandatory.
Education is a subject of importance to each parent invested in their child’s future. I have found myself frequently looking outside the box for ways to facilitate my children’s educational experience in the hope that they will gather the tools and life skills to create their own future. The greater lessons are taught outside of class, unprinted in text books.
I could outline for you the schools we have chosen and the teaching styles we have explored but I think there is something to be said for my children’s raw materials. Bottom line: I am blessed with two curious children that love to explore their world, have faith that they can approach new experiences with ability, and a willingness to create with spare parts.
My children’s greatest challenge was me. I am a grown-up stereotypical “good girl” with an eagerness to please and a need to be accepted. Luckily my spunky children are comfortable with an uncomfortable mother. They are secure in their imperfections and aware of their needs and limits. I have become comfortable with imperfect grades, unfinished homework, and simpler schedules; putting my children’s needs before other people’s standards of excellence.
In our house we do our best, work hard, sleep well, relax, play and have family time. We also argue, fighting for what we believe in. We apologize for causing hurt and do not apologize for our differences.
Today I listened to someone tell me we will be okay and I felt immeasurable relief. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. This job of parenting is impossibly imperfect and perfectly rewarding. We do our best and fight for what we believe in. We make mistakes and carry on.
parenting in progress
September 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am an amateur. I have lofty dreams of parenting from a serene source of strength, but sometimes I struggle to be the mother I strive to be.
I never intend to raise my voice to my children and still I have. The sharp sound of my voice tinged with anger makes me feel horrible and has yet to fix poor behavior, but in moments of extreme frustration I sometimes lose sight of intentions and ideologies grasping desperately for order and authority. Shame for my own impatience guides me to apologize. In our house we have expanded sorry to encompass a promise, we say: Sorry means I will try to do better.
My kids know I am fallible, it would seem silly to hide this. I cannot imagine the standard of perfection that would cast judgment on their own mistakes without the balance of my errors. I hope my children are comfortable with both making mistakes and striving to learn from them. I often think of my children as consultants in parenting; sometimes they teach me, often times they forgive me, but mostly they hold me accountable to do my best.
On Saturday, my son snapped at my daughter and my daughter threw a noisy, public temper tantrum. I was horrified and snapped back. Maybe they were tired, hungry, overheated, or under the weather. Regardless of why, they were unhappy and ugliness seemed to puddle around us drawing each of us further into a muck of misery. Underneath the unpleasantness were these amazing little souls that provide me with moments of joy, humor, compassion, and wisdom.
I sat both children down and held for them the mirror of accountability that they hold for me. We talked our way through the problems and I asked them who they want to be; if their behavior best represented the person they are on the inside. They are no more bad kids, than I am a bad mom. They are little people still making sense of their world just as I am finding my way through motherhood. Forgiveness and understanding, acceptance for our imperfections and opportunities to do better are all any of us can hope for.
Parenting is an ongoing effort full of adjustments, lessons, apologies, and hope; a work in progress. Each day is a new beginning, an opportunity to do better.
scribblechic 